


Connor and the Waitress

by KAL (JadeElite)



Category: Boondock Saints (Movies)
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Love at First Sight, Pregnancy, Pregnancy Kink, Pregnant Sex, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-23 21:11:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18710047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadeElite/pseuds/KAL
Summary: It's your first night working at McGinty for Doc. You need the money bad, but are exhausted from your day job and your life. While serving the Macmanus brother's you hit it off well with Connor, who stands up for you when the other patrons become too rowdy.





	1. Chapter 1

The bar is packed, it’s only your first night, but you can tell you will be working to earn this paycheck. Doc said not to push yourself too hard, but you always strive to be the best you can be at anything you try. After an hour your feet are already sore, but you’re persevering.  
“Good evening!” You greet a table cheerily, two young men, both handsome in their own right, but the one with the sharp jaw and sandy hair is more your type. “What’s it going to be for you tonight?”  
“Can ya just bring us a bottle o’ whiskey and two glasses?” The dark haired one mumbles, looking down at the table.  
“Murphy be polite to the lass.” The other looks to you, eyes slightly widening at sight, something you’re getting used to. He swallows and thinks for a moment before giving you a beautiful smile. “Forgive my brother, he’s having some lady friend problems and is a bit grumpy over it. My name’s Conor, and what may I call you? Other than gorgeous that is.”  
You giggle, and tell him your name, then pause, “… but gorgeous works too.”  
“Alright then gorgeous, like Murphy said a bottle and two glasses. Let Doc know it’s for his boys, he knows what we like best.” Connor looks you over one more time. “An’ listen, a job like this can be hard if anybody gives you problems point them out to me. Hate to see you quit over some arseholes being rude.”  
You return to the counter with a bit of a skip in your step, and a dumb grin on your flushed face. “Hey Doc, your boys are here.”  
Doc laughs a bit before turning back to the shelves and selecting a full bottle of whiskey. “Those two are the only reason this place still gets to run, so be good to them you hear?” He puts the bottle and glasses on my tray, then looks me in the eyes. “You doin okay? If ya need a rest just tell me, don’ want you overworking yerself.”  
“I’m fine Doc, don’t worry I’m tougher than I look.” You return to the table holding that tray like you’re bringing back a great treasure. As you approach you can’t help hearing bits of their conversation, most of it is lost to the crowd.  
“Leave it… taken… not worth… good samaritan… gonna.” Is all I catch of Murphy’s side.  
“Jus… yer girl… you ain't… don’t mean… parade.” Was what I gathered of Connor’s response.  
It makes you wonder. Is he just trying to be kind because he pities you? Certainly, somebody like him couldn’t be interested in you. It’s nice to be called gorgeous, to have him smile at you that way. But it makes more sense that it’s an act because he feels bad for you. When you set the bottle on the table, it draws their attention to you and your not as bright smile.  
Connor clears his throat as he takes his glass from your hand. “May I ask, how far along are ya?”  
Your hand flutters down to your pregnant belly, which constrained by the apron gives it the appearance of a ballon. “Thirty-two weeks.” You set Murphy’s glass down in front of him while he looks away sheepishly.  
Connor lets off a low whistle. “Wow, what are you doin’ startin’ a job like this while yer that far along?”  
You tuck your tray under your arm and rub the underside of the balloon, the friction is a nice feeling, and the babe has been rather quiet tonight with your walking rocking him to sleep. “Have to make ends meet you know?” You wonder how much you should be willing to divulge. “I work as an accountant downtown, five days a week, nearly eight hour days. The pay is crap cause I’m young and a woman.”  
Connor nods in understanding, but before he can speak again, somebody calls out across the bar. “Hey, waitress I need another fucking’ beer. What do they pay you for? Standing round lookin’ like a fuckin’ condom advertisement bitch!”  
“You watch yer fuckin’ mouth!” Connor shouts, pointing at the man. “If I eva’ catch you talking to this nice young lady like that again I’m gonna kick yer teeth in!”  
“Oh shut it, Connor! You’ll get your ass beat to judgment day and back if you keep running your mouth.” The man spits in your direction. “Now get me a beer bitch!”  
“Right away sir…” You try to placate the situation. “Sorry to keep you waiting.” Having no intention of being the cause of a bar brawl on my first night, you kick Connor in the shin when he tries to stand.  
“I’ll check on you boys later.” You make your way back to the counter. The rest of the night goes more or less the same. You serve drinks, and Connor threatens to square up with anybody who gives you shit. He really may if it comes to it. The tips aren’t quite what you were hoping for, but it’ll get some food in the fridge.  
Doc grabs your attention after a few more hours. “Go ahead an take a rest in the back.”  
“I’m fine boss.” You’re not though, your feet, sides, and head hurts like hell.  
“Yer pale as a sheet.” He looks at you sternly. “Go sit; I don’t wanna hear another word against it.”  
You sigh, setting your tray down on the counter. While permission to rest is a relief, it doesn’t help the tip situation. You’ve run out of energy to walk normally, your body semi relaxes, and you waddle to the back hallway, avoiding making eye contact with anybody.  
The back hall, leading to the restrooms, is dimly lit, but quiet, with a couple of benches. You wish you could plop right down in the seat, but it’s not that simple. It’s a matter of calculating physics. One of the washroom doors swings open, and you feel embarrassed realizing you’ve been caught in the awkward process of attempting to use the wall as support while you lower yourself. When you start to lose balance though, a pair of strong hands catch you from behind, one under the armpit and the other gently on your waist.  
“Careful there lass.” Connor helps you to sit; you can smell the whiskey on him and are surprised he has the coordination himself to do this. “Don’ want somethin’ happenin’ to that baby now do we?” His accent has grown stronger with the inebriation; it’s like delicious honey running through your ears.  
You smile weakly, watching him sway a bit before deciding to sit next to you. “Thank you, Connor. Never imagined it would be this difficult just to get around.”  
“Aye, I don’ imagine it’s easy.” He nods, observing me. “It must be exhaustin’, and you have to take good care of yerself.” His gaze goes out to the still crowded bar. “I see ya pushin’ yerself out there, ya look tired…. glad Doc made ya rest but he won’ be mad if ya take it a bit easier, he’s just glad to have the help.”  
You shake your head, which worsens the ache in it. “Wish it were that easy.” You rub your huge belly, worrying a bit about your son’s future. “Doc pays well, better than my other job if I’m being honest, but it’s not enough, I need the tips. I have to be out there doing a good job and…” You sigh, shoulders crumpling. “Medical bills are adding up, and it’s going to be even worse when I deliver. Rent, electric, it’s getting cold, so the gas bill is going up. I can barely afford to eat much less eat for two.” You sniffle, getting overwhelmed just thinking about it. “I’m going to be out of work for a while when he comes; my other boss laughed at me when I asked about maternity leave. When I go back, I have to find a sitter then. God, I haven’t even bought a crib or any of that other baby shit yet because it’s all so fucking expensive!” You’re rubbing quick circles over your swollen stomach as panic sets in. You lean your head against the wall and squeeze your eyes shut against the throbbing pain in your head.  
“Hey, hey calm down, it’ll be alright.” Connor places a warm hand on my shoulder. Truth is human contact, even if it’s from a stranger, is something you desperately need. His body so close to yours brings comfort.  
“Connah… you get losht on the way back from the bathroom..?” A completely hammered Murphy stumbles into the hall, chuckling at the sight of his brother. “You jus’ don’t give up do yah?”  
“Murph I know yer in a shite mood, but ya can’t have forgotten that the two of us are supposed to be kind to women.” Connor’s voice softens as though embarrassed. “Regardless of an ulterior motive, ‘specially if they look like they need a friend.”  
Murphy starts to say something else, but you burst into sobs, which causes the words to become strangled in his throat. Hunching over your belly, you cover your face with both hands, shoulder shaking. The burning in your head is spreading to the neck, and the baby begins to kick. Neither brother seems to know what to say or do.  
“Am I so pathetic?” You rasp, throat dry. “I can’t support myself or my child. I waddle around looking like a fucking pro-abstinence campaign, and the only people who will give me kindness only do so because they pity me.”  
“Murphy go get her some water.” Connor snaps, before touching your shoulder again. “You’re not pathetic. You’re very strong, that’s what I thought as soon as I saw you.” He carefully rubs your back. “You’ve got a fortunate man back home; he’s got a gorgeous, hardworking lass carrying his beautiful child.”  
Your voice cracks. “There’s nobody for me back home.” You take gasping breaths. “He walked out when I told him I was pregnant. I don’t have any friends; my family has disowned me. I haven’t heard from anybody they just cut contact. Last I heard he was in New York working at the stock exchange or something.”  
Connor stammers, realizing he’s made an arse out of himself. “I’m sorry… I didn’ mean to…”  
“Shite,” Murphy takes a knee beside you to hand over a glass of water. “Sorry for actin’ like an arsehole, I didn'…” He sighs. “I was jealous, though’ you had the future I been too chicken to make with my gal.”  
You take the water gratefully. It’s cool, refreshing, and helps to ease the burning in my throat.  
“Where is that fucking bitch now?” There’s a commotion in the bar. You tense, knowing what is to come if he finds you back here.  
“Have to get back to work.” You mumble, trying to stand. A cramp overtakes your side which causes you to groan.   
“I’m gonna knock the fucker into the next century.” Standing quickly but swaying, Connor seems fully intent on starting a fight.  
“No, no, no… no!” Murphy has to use the wall to get back to his feet. “Connah take her home, I’ll let Doc know she ain’t feelin well.”  
“I can’t afford to…” Home sounds good right now.  
“You can, yer not alone anymore.” Murphy gives you a grin. “Connah’s taken a shine to you, so yer stuck with us, and I think yer pretty cool too, so I don’t have a problem with it.” He starts to stumble out of the hall, but his brother calls out.  
“Hey, when you get home I want you to give yer girl ma’s ring. It’s about time she made an honest man out of you.” Connor takes your hand, and wraps the other arm around your waist, slowly helping you stand.  
Murphy laughs. “I’ll ask her to marry me, but I’m pawning the ring, we’re going to need the money.”  
“Ma is gonna kill ya!”  
“Not if you don’t tell her!”  
Another cramp takes hold of your leg this time, and you hiss as Connor gets you to the point of halfway standing. “God I should never have sat down knew I wouldn’t be able to get back up.”  
“Put yer weight on me if you have to.” He gets your arm over his shoulder. You lean into him for support; face pressed to his chest. Cinnamon and whiskey and ceader; tossed in a fire and toasted for a bit before the flames dispersed.  
“Sorry for the trouble Connor.” You say once you’re fully standing. You drop your arm from his shoulder, but he keeps his firmly around your waist, not that you mind.  
“It’s no trouble lass. Now you ready to go back out there?” His voice is so calm and reassuring.  
You nod, and you two enter the crowded bar area. He adjusts his gait to match your struggling waddle. You keep one hand under your belly to support it, the other fiddles with a lock of your hair.  
“Hey, where do you think you’re going, you fucking whore?!” Oh god, it’s him again. “That how you make the real cash, takin’ one of us home?” Your eyes water, You can’t think clearly. You don’t want to go through another round of harassment with him.  
“Keep moving…” Connor whispers, rubbing you back reassuringly. Your son chooses now to stretch, and as much as you love to feel him move about me right now is the worst time. You stumble slightly, forcing the progress through the bar to pause and you grasp at your apron where the little one is pressing up desperately. It feels like all the eyes in the bar are on you while you make yourself look like a fool.  
And with this pause the asshole that’s been giving you crap all night nearly closes the distance. “Oh boo hoo, your belly hurts, maybe if you had kept your legs shut you wouldn’t have had to worry about it.”  
You are crying once again, leaning into Connor and burying your face in his chest. You just want tonight to be over with, to just go home and curl up in bed. “Connor… get me out of here…” You half scream when your arm is grabbed roughly. But before either you or Connor can react; Murphy comes in out of nowhere and lands a solid punch on his jaw, so hard it knocks the bastard to the floor. Connor holds you close to keep you steady, grinning slightly at his brother.  
Murphy gives the two of you a dumb smirk and a thumbs up, before proceeding to beat the shit out of this atrocious human being. And Connor leads you out of the bar and takes you home.


	2. Chapter 2

“Are ya going to make it lass?” Connor has taken notice of your heavy breathing,  
“Yeah, yeah. The building is right here.” Your calves are cramping, and it feels as though you are carrying a boulder in your belly.  
“Lean on me.” He puts his arm around your waist again. “Christ yer freezin’ mo grah. Why didn’t you say anythin’?”  
You put a bit too much weight on him as the two of you pass through the double doors; he grunts at the sudden pressure but responds by holding you tighter. “Guess I just like being miserable.” You mumble this, leading the way to the elevator. Fourth floor. The rumble of the machinery always makes you nervous. Connor is quiet but rubs your back comfortingly. Just before the death box jolts to a stop he preemptively places a hand on your bulging belly. As he predicted I lose my balance and his strong arms keep me from falling.  
“How on Earth were ya plannin’ on gettin’ home by yerself after doin’ that whole shift?” He guides you from the elevator. Both of you pause and look down to your belly, where his hand still rests on the curved surface. “Sorry! Didn’t mean ta…”  
You quickly place your hand over his when it begins to pull away. “Please!” Was that too desperate? “You can… keep it there, if you want!” Aside from your doctor, Connor might be the only person to lay a hand upon your pregnant swell. “Was that too… I don’t mean to sound…”  
His smile makes your heart flutter. “It’s not too eager; everybody deserves a little attention now and again.” He runs a large, slow circle around the curve while you guide him down the hallway. It makes your toes tingle, or maybe that’s all the walking. “And I get the feeling you’ve been a bit deprived of it lately.” You pass one of your neighbors, who gives you an odd, judgmental look, which is a fairly common look you get. He lowers his voice and whispers in your ear while continuing to caress the beautiful bulge gently. “In fact, it’s entirely unfair that you’ve been left untouched during a time when you are most deserving of attention. A belly so full of life like this? You should have somebody who praises it every day. I’m sorry you’ve been denied that.”  
Your knees are weak as you fumble for the keys; before you open the door though you look up at him with a far too needy look. “You’re right… do you think that you might, I mean do you want to…” Fuck how are you supposed to talk to him without feeling like an attention whore? Connor is perfect. Charming. Kind. Attractive. Mouth-watering delicious to look at. What? How has he got you thinking such thoughts about him? Well, that is obvious, but still, shame on you.  
He wraps his arms entirely around you, leading the way into the dark apartment. “I want ta worship you.”  
To say the thought excites you would be a severe understatement, but precisely, his warmth, comfort, and desire to attend to you fills that aching hole in your chest.  
“You just met me. You whisper, carefully treading through the apartment, using the moonlight filtering past pale blue curtains to navigate. "You barely know me.”   
You’re lowered to the seat of the ratty couch, and the muscles in your body cry out in relief. “We’ll deal with tat tomorrow, I want ta know you, but tonight…” Connor drops to his knees in front of you. “Fuck lass just let me be everythin’ yer hearts been lackin’ for.” He takes your knees to spread your legs, moving to be between them. In the moonlight his eyes shine, looking up past your big, round belly with the look of a begging puppy. Have you ever seen a more beautiful sight?  
Everything inside you is a thousand different kinds of wound up. Body sore, tender, sensitive from a long night of work. There is a constant twitching within the sphere of life, not quite the feeling of the child moving; instead it’s the muscles containing him straining with the effort. It’s a fantastic sensation, knowing your body is working overtime. Which isn’t a thought you’ve ever had before.  
It’s something Connor appreciates, his hands cup both sides of you. He leans in, eyes locked on yours while those luscious lips press to your belly button where it pops out the fabric a little more than the rest. Nobody has ever made you feel this special with just a look. The cobalt blue drawn you in, makes you feel safe.  
“Connor…” You mumble, playing with the sandy hair, he hums against your apron. “What does mo grah mean?”  
“What?” He rises a bit and rests his chin on your belly. The baby rolls over inside, Connor smiles even as you groan from the pressure it places on your organs. His hands squeeze and rub, a reward for your noises.  
“Mo grah, you said ‘you’re freezing mo grah.’ Was that Irish?” Your body is still too tense, muscles quivering, and you can’t relax.  
Connor’s cheeks flush, but he doesn’t shy away from the question. “Yeah it’s Irish, didn’t think you caught tat, slipped out.” He raises himself a little bit more, and you instinctively lean forward, beginning to close the gap between your faces. “It means 'my love.’”  
His lips are about to meet yours. Through half-lidded eyes, you admire those beautiful blues. The whole universe lies behind that intense gaze; you could go swimming in them and never find a coral reef you’ve already explored. You can almost taste the whiskey on his breath but then…  
An intense cramp takes hold of your lower belly. A cry of pain makes its way out of you while pushing Connor away by the shoulders. Somebody set a bonfire underneath your stomach, and all the muscles are tensing up in fear. Although the great pain is focused in your middle, your entire body aches from the strain.  
With your vision going fuzzy you can’t make out Connor’s expression but can still hear him. “Breath!” He is loud, which focuses your attention enough to inhale deeply, alleviating some of the burning in your lungs. But the intensity of the contraction is undeterred, while only lasting a minute or so, it seems to go on for hours.  
When it is finally over you are so drained that you fall to the side, gently lowered by Connor so you may rest your head on the cushions. “Well, that was new.” You’re panting, and have a few beads of sweat. How the hell are you supposed to handle labor if one contraction saps all your strength?  
Connor scrambles to his feet, and your eyes try to follow him as he stumbles around frantically searching for the light switch. When the dim light flickers to life, you take amusement in his expression. Both of his hands are frantically running through blonde hair as though ripping it out may fix everything. His eyes are wider than dinner plates while he stares at you from across the room. That beautiful jaw is clenched tight, and the blood is draining from his cheeks. “I’m too drunk to drive…”  
“What? Connor…” You nervously rub your belly, still concerned about how awful the pain was and that more of it lies in your future. On top of it, all your son has grown restless, turning and stretching within you. You wince as he kicks a rib, causing a spark of pain, and that expression of discomfort causes the Irishman to grow even more worried.   
“I’m. Too. Drunk. To. drive.” He emphasizes, now pacing the living room. “I can’t drive you to the hospital.”  
You might have laughed if you weren’t so tired. “Connor I'm…”  
He interrupts. “Do you have a phone? I could call Murph and he can… shit, he’s drunker than I am. Maybe… no, she doesn’t even know how to drive.”  
Oh boy, he’s in full panic mode, although it is a fun spetecal to watch, the neighbors are sleeping, so it’s time to calm him now. “Chill, there’s noth…”  
“Rocco!” Connor isn’t listening. “He’s on the job, but I could… fuck sake he’s out of town this time.”  
You try to sit up, groaning loudly from the effort, and whining as the baby’s movements increase, kicking and bruising you from the inside.  
“No, no, no!” He rushes to your side. “Lie down, rest, you need your strength.” Strong hands push you back into the cushions. “If we can’t get you to the hospital you’ll have to deliver here… I mean at least it’s cheaper right?” God, he is an adorable idiot, and his concern is heartwarming. “I’m here for you, we can figure…”  
But the fun has to stop. You place a hand over his mouth to quiet him, smiling softly as you do. “Connor, mo grah, I’m fine. I’m not in labor.”  
His shoulders are heaving from panicked breathing, and he sounds so confused when you allow him to speak again. “But the contraction…”  
“A Braxton-Hicks.” Your voice is reassuring. “A practice contraction. I’ve still got a ways to go.”  
“Oh, fucking thank you, God.” He rests his forehead on your tired tummy, mumbling prayers under his breath.  
“Connor… I hate to treat you like a servant, after all, you’ve done for me but could you get me a glass of water?” You’re so run down; you need a few minutes to recover before the story progresses.  
“Of course, of course!” He stands quickly, kissing your forehead. The kitchen is a little corner thing in the main room, so he doesn’t have to go exploring to find it. Now that things are lit up and calmed down he looks around the sparsely decorated apartment. You immediately feel ashamed. Aside from the couch, all that populates the space is an armchair and coffee table. On top of that, the place is a mess; you’ve bee too stressed and tired to make any attempt at cleaning for months. Laundry has accumulated in various locations. Dishes are piled a mile high. The stove is covered in dried up god-knows-what. You never did properly get the morning sick-up out of the carpet in that one spot.  
“Sorry for the mess, I’d have cleaned up if I knew…” Knew what? That you’d be bringing somebody home from a bar tonight?  
“Lass, don’t worry your pretty head about it.” Somehow Connor tracks down a clean glass and fills it at the sink. “For all the work you’ve been doing, I’d say you have the right to a messy place.” He brings it over and helps you sit up again before handing it to you. Then he takes one knee to the floor to carefully remove your flats and stockings. You blush a bright red as he spends a moment rubbing some of the tired out of your tootsies. It’s difficult not to moan in satisfaction, and when a small 'ahhhh’ makes it’s way out of you he gets a cocky grin. Once satisfied with his work he takes a seat beside you. “Murph and I don’t work tomorrow, could drag him over, clean up, get to know each other better.” His voice is sincere. “And don’t say you don’t want to make us do that, I’m happy to, and Murph will be whether he likes it or not.”  
“That does sound nice if it’s not a bother…” You lean on him; an arm wraps around your waist, and both hands find their place on your belly again. It’s where they belong. “But I don’t understand why you’re so helpful when we’ve only known each other for…”  
“Gorgeous, let me tell you about how Murphy met his gal.” Ooooh, story time from Connor. You nestle more into him and drink your water while he massages your pregnant belly. “So he and I were working at a shop a few years back; that job didn’t last long due to… poor customer service skills, and because the manager got it into his head that we were a gay couple pretending to be brothers so we could fly under the radar.”  
“Are you?” You tease.  
“Maybe, but I don’t kiss and tell.” Connor soothingly rubs the spot your son has decided to beat against. “Anyways this lass walks in lookin’ like she’s had the roughest day of her life. Hair messed up; make-up smeared, large black sunglass. Couldn’t even tell she was a lady at first, not in that men’s tracksuit. Anyways she comes to the counter where Murph is working the till, takes the sunglasses off, looks him dead in the eye, and places the most complex order in history. Says she’s going to the ladies room while we put it together.”   
You’ve already finished your water, and try to lean forward to set the glass on the table. It’s then your stomach decides to rumble hungrily, now that you’ve awakened it. It’s the sort of deep gut rumbling that vibrates your core, and there is no doubt that Connor heard it.  
“Hungry lass?” He glances over to the kitchen, but he knows you have nothing to eat. “There’s a 24-hour Chinese place down the street; I could run down there and get you somethin.”  
“I mean… yeah, I’d appreciate that. I’ll pay you back when I get cash from the ATM tomorrow.”  
“Don’t even think about it, and while I’m gone if you want to get cleaned up, I’m sure that uniform is getting uncomfortable.” Connor stands, then helps you to your feet for what feels like the tenth time tonight. “Have a preference or should I surprise you?”  
You feel like you’re taking advantage of his kindness, but vow to repay him in some way. “No red meat, haven’t been able to stomach it since I got knocked up.” The thought of your favorite burger from your favorite diner pops into your head, and it makes your mouth water and stomach churn at the same time.  
“Got it, I’ll be back soon, I swear.” He takes your keys off the coffee table. Before leaving his kisses your forehead, then bends to kiss your belly. “Be nice to your mother.”  
Oh shit, it feels like you’re falling in love.  
Connor’s been gone a good five minutes before you realize you’re still standing there like an idiot staring at the door. Slowly you waddle to the bedroom, and from there to the attached bathroom. When you turn the light on your reflection scares you. It’s practically an unfamiliar face, the woman you see is far too happy to possibly be you.  
First thing off is the apron, and from there you strip as quickly as you are able. When done, you pause, take a deep breath, ready yourself, then look down. For the first time, you adore the sight of your naked mound. Take pride in the swell. You are nearly turned on just looking at your swollen, drooping breasts and that massive orb hanging off you. You’re in the shower quick though, wanting not to keep Connor waiting when he gets back.  
You use your lovely soaps. The ones for special occasions. One is a flowery hibiscus scent for your hair, and your body is bathed in plum and lavender fusion. You want to be beautiful for him in every way. Clean and nice-smelling. Pretty and pregnant. You spend too long washing your belly, rubbing the lather over the stretch marks. Think of Connor playing with it, even your hands alone manage to make you tingle.  
You spend so long rubbing and cleaning in fact that the water runs cold. But it always runs cold too quickly anyway because the damn water heater is broken. Management wants to charge an arm and a leg to fix it. Can’t even argue because you signed the lease with the discounted rent that said they could charge you for any repairs.  
As you step out of the shower, shiver, you can hear the front door opening. He must have moved fast, that Chinese place is a ten-minute walk at least, and they’re slow as shit getting you your order at this time on a Friday night. Something you’re ashamed to admit knowing very well. While you’re toweling off, you think about the fact that you have no appropriate clothing to wear, at least nothing comfortable and appealing at the moment. The little one presses against your internal organs, and you moan, leaning on the sink.  
“You alright in there lass?” Connor calls, I can hear the sink water running and dishes being moved around.  
“Just getting beat on by my kid is all.” You call back, rubbing the taut skin. His muffled laughter is soothing. Moving out to the bedroom, you try to track down something suitable to wear. T-shirt, sweatpants, robe. It’s the best you can do.  
When you enter the main area again, you are stunned at the spread on the coffee table. Orange, Sweet n Sour, and General Tso’s chicken. Egg rolls, dumplings, fried rice. Clean plates set to the side. You’re drooling, then even more so when you see Connor. Sleeves rolled up to the elbows, showing off magnificent forearms. Sweat is dripping down his forehead and chest heaving.  
“You ran…” The fuzzy robe feels nice against your skin, and he seems to like it going by the smile he gets when he looks up.  
“You need to eat, couldn’t just make you wait.” Conor even ahs a few bottles of tea he’s opening up and setting by the plates. “But it’s all fresh, made them cook it up fresh.”  
“This is a lot of food Connor; you didn’t have to spend this much on…”  
“You are pregnant. Connor takes you by the shoulders. "You are a single mother to be with an empty fridge and nobody to keep you warm at night.” One hand slides down to its favorite spot and plays with the threads of fuzz. “I intend to change that.”  
You sway a bit, dancing to silent music. “I’m rather tempted to let you.” It’s a song that connects the two of you, pulls you into his arms. “I think I…” Again your lips are about to meet his. Then, where his firm abdomen lays against your round one, the baby boy presses hard against your womb; you pull away, wincing. “I’m not used to him being this active, sorry.”  
“Must be all the excitement.” Connor teases before lowering you to the couch once again.  
Soon your plates are filled with food; you’re curled up practically in Connor’s lap. Chinese take-out never tasted so good.  
“So…” You look up at him with wide eyes. “You never finished your story about Murphy and his girlfriend.”  
“Ah, that’s right.” Connor puts more chicken on your plate when he thinks you aren’t looking. “Where was I?”  
“She’d just gone to the bathroom.” You happily consume what he has added.  
“Right, right. So the way it went was…” He gets a bit of a dramatic storytelling voice going. “While she’s doin’ her business and I’m gettin’ the order together, Murphy turns to me and goes, 'Connah, I think I jus’ met my soulmate.’ Of course, I look at him like he’s a dumbass and tell him to shut up and help me.”  
You laugh, almost able to picture it in your head. “That was rather rude wasn’t it?”  
He shrugs. “I like to give him shit, he likes to give me shit, we’re twins, it’s the circle of life. But the thing was he didn’t shut up. Goes on the whole time about how he saw somethin’ in her eyes.” After setting his plate aside, he continues to add food to yours at random intervals and playing with your bloated tummy when he’s not. “So, she comes back from the bathroom and Murph tears the order out of my hands to give it to her. The get into a conversation, and I get stuck running till and back.”  
“Aw, poor baby.” You boop his nose with a dumb grin. “Had to do all that work by yourself. Such a hardworking boy.”  
“That’s me.” Connor chuckles, one hand slipping between the folds of your robe; the moment his fingers meet bare skin there’s this electricity that makes you shiver in pleasure. “I never did find out exactly what they talked about, but he got a date for that night, claims he got laid immediately, and they’ve been in love from the very start. They were just perfect for each other.”  
“Until tonight.” You yawn, fullness bringing sleepiness along with it. “When you had to take him out to get plastered.”  
“Aw, they were having a bit of a fit cause she thought their relationship was going nowhere since Murphy’s too big a coward to ask for her hand in marriage. Thinks he isn’t good enough of somthin’.” He lightly drags his fingernails against the skin of your tum, and you jump mid-yawn at the sensation. “You gettin’ tired mo grah?”  
“Just a bit.” You hand him your plate so he can put it aside. “So what’s the moral of the story.” You hold your full belly, feeling rather content for the first time in a long while. Glancing at the coffee table, you’re completely taken aback by how much food is gone. How much did you eat? Over half the feast has been cleared away.   
“Well, I suppose it’s that…. sometimes things just feel right from the first moment, and you can’t shy away just cause yer afraid of things movin’ to fast.” Connor holds you close, breathing deep the scents of your body wash. “I know we just met, but I don’t want to do the usual early relationship tip-toe through the tulips bullshit.” He pauses, hands going a bit stiff. “Assuming you… want to be with me?”  
“Of course I do!” Your heart is racing now, and you’re a bit more awake. “I don’t want to take advantage of you. I’m not even sure that I’m ready for a serious relationship. Not with everything that’s going on, with everything I’ve been through.”  
"Gorgeous,” He nuzzles his chin into the crook of your neck. “You are not, and never will be, taking advantage of me. Wanna know why?” you bite your lip before nodding. “Because when you came to our table, I saw somethin’ in your eyes. My heart broke right in half when I saw you were pregnant, thought you were claimed. Because I think you might be my soulmate.”  
“Oh, Connor…” You take one of his hands and squeeze.  
He interlaces his fingers with mine. “I knew before we even left the bar that I’d do anythin’ for you. For the kid especially.”  
“I’ve just got too much stuff on my plate to be a decent girlfriend right now.” You’ve never felt this warm and safe and loved before. “I’m going to be needy, cranky, not very fun. You deserve better than that.”  
There is a pleading nature to his voice. “Tat’s okay though! You’ve earned the right to be, I mean it. You’ve worked so hard. It would be my pleasure to take care of you.”  
If only he were the father. Life would be perfect if you had met him sooner and he fathered this child. Those long months of loneliness nearly drove you to unspeakable things.  
“I want you to stay with me.” You want to be happy, and not alone. “I want to fall in love with you. I… I want my baby to have a father and… I want it to be you. God, and I just met you, how desperate do I sound…”  
Connor sits you up a bit and brings his face to yours one more time. “Not at all. If you let me, I would do so. Happily. There’s nothing better I could imagine doing with my life.”  
You smile broadly, inching closer. “I’m sure there are a few better things.”  
“Name one.” His breathing is slow.  
“Having your own…” That’s the moment you finally take the plunge and press your lips to his.  
It’s intense from the very first moment. Like no kiss you’ve ever experienced before. Connor tastes like whiskey, General Tso’s, and bonfire smoke. He is more tender than you anticipated. Caring and affectionate. You realize he’s pushing your back down o the seat of the couch, and once you are laid comfortably, he breaks the kiss.  
Those blue eyes draw you into a whole other world. One made just for him, for you, and all the little ones made along the way to a silly happy future the two of you could make. You didn’t want kids before, but you already know that you’d raise as many as Connor asks for if it kept him by your side, and you’d love those babies all the pieces.  
“I guess we’ll have to see.” Connor hovers above you, chewing on his lip. “But I think I’ve already got one of my own right here, don’t I?”  
“How about we say…” Your hands are n his back, and you’re feeling up his muscles; drawing your hands up to the shoulders, down the biceps, and back. “He’s yours… that he never has to question that you might love him less than his siblings for not being yours because he won’t even know.”  
“I’d be honored.” Connor kisses you again, more deeply this time, tongue invading mouth and exploring.  
You get dizzy from the high. Everything about him is utter perfection. A kind gentleman with a beautiful smile. An Irishman with an adorable accent and even cuter butt. He’s so strong, so gorgeous, so charismatic. You moan as familiar need pools between your legs. The warm wetness of desire. Tingly toes and an ache in your pelvis. You’ve found yourself more sensitive and quicker to become aroused since the start of your second trimester. Which had only added to the misery of your isolation. But now, oh god now.  
Connor pulls away, grinning, but it faces. “You’re exhausted…” His hand goes to your cheek, and the thumb strokes the bags under your eyes.  
“No, I’m not now, I’m fine.” You whine, raising your knee to rub your thigh between his legs. He feels like he’s getting hard, he wants it too.  
Connor’s breath catches, and his hips start to move so he can get more friction; until he sits up and runs a hand through that perfect sandy hair. “I want you lass, I really, really want ya.” He turns away so maybe he can regain his composure. “But your body needs rest. Ya need sleep.”  
“Connor please, I haven’t been touched in so long.” You please, one hand beginning to play with your breast through the robe, while the other pulls it away from your huge belly. “I need you to touch me.”  
He glances down and your exposed stomach and playful hands and groans. One hand reaches out, tempted, but he clenches his fist and stands up. “Another time gorgeous. But for now, sleep.”  
You whine again but halfway through it turns into a surprised squeal when he suddenly scoops you up. He’s strong, strong enough to gently hold you wedding style without breaking a sweat. The baby kicks, and you can’t stop laughing. How on Earth did tonight end up like this? In the arms of… god… have you ever been this happy?“  
Connor effortlessly carries ou to the bedroom and navigates the dim to your bed. "I’ll clean things up out there. You get comfortable. Might borrow your shower.” Your bed is welcoming, cool to the touch and soft as fuck. There is still heat between your legs and all you can think about is Connor’s hand taking a trip…"  
“You’ll come back?” You whisper, dreading the loneliness of the night. “Sleep in here tonight?”  
“Of course mo grah.” He bends over, and I think I’m about to get one of those fantastic forehead kisses again, but it’s your lips he meets. Fuck, you’re in love.  
While you lie in bed waiting for him, the room becomes much too hot. So with more than a little hesitation, you remove your robe and toss it to the floor. While he uses your shower you sit up and open the curtains on the window pressed against the bed, it’s a tough trip up with your belly full of baby and food.  
The city is something else tonight. With the full moon out the entire picture takes on an ethereal feeling by its pale light. You massage your swollen stomach, relishing in how with your shirt ridden so far up there is no clothing to obstruct it. There’s a park across the street; it's metal monkey bars glisten; the tree leaves shake in the wind. Your baby stretches, and you smile even though he makes your sides ache.  
You hear footsteps behind you, and half turn to see Connor standing there, staring; a towel around his waist; hair still soaked.  
“There was no hot water, how on earth do ya deal with that lass?” He’s shivering.  
As you turn you try to pull your shirt down to cover better, but it doesn’t even make it halfway to your popped out belly button. Your slim figure’s small t-shirts have come to haunt you now that you can barely afford more than a couple of sets of maternity clothes.  
Connor approaches the bed. “Didn’t have any clothes to change into… is that a problem, I can figure…”  
“It’s fine, guess we’ll have to fix that tomorrow huh? Can’t have you not having clothes around here.” You look away, feeling shy. “It’s not like I’m any better. Aside from work clothes I’ve got nothing that covers me.”  
“Well, I don’t think we have to worry about fixing that.” He sits on the edge of the bed, and you turn to face him completely. “I’m going to be sorry I didn’t get more time to enjoy this look when yer done.”  
“Maybe…” You take his hand and rest it on the bare belly. “But you’ll have a beautiful son to hold… and a chance to make me like this again if you want.”  
He rubs a large circle on the cold skin, his touch making you feel warm and fuzzy. “A son… a beautiful baby boy.” His fingers take the hem of your shirt and pull it, so your tummy is fully exposed. “Won’t lie, I can’t wait to see what you look like with twins.” The humor is to distract you from the fact that he’s crying. Those are tears rolling down his cheeks and shining in the moonlight.  
You catch one with your knuckle, wiping it away. “Let’s sleep now, in the morning we can fix all the broken things.”


	3. Chapter 3

The bed is warm. The breath on the back of your neck is pleasant. The arms around your life filled stomach is cozy. You feel completely at peace when consciousness trickles in. Even the baby is affected by the serenity of the morning. He sleeps soundly within your gravid belly, occasionally twitches and fluttering kicks. Does he dream? If so, what of? The warm comforts of the womb? Your voice? Or does it’s brain try to conjure images of the outside world; with only shadows and muffled noises to go by? Certainly, it can only dream of this place like the men of Plato’s cave do?  
As you awaken, your mind begins to recall the memories of last night and the identity of the man whose arms are so lovingly wrapped around you. A pang of fear strikes your heart; will he remember his drunken promises? More importantly, will he stand by them? Can you blame him if he doesn’t? Do you have the right to be angry if he walks away?  
Your eyes open slowly to the pale morning light. There lies the city, still slow, nearly empty, awakening on this lazy Saturday morning. Slow breathing, blinking, no movement at all as you try to feign sleep, not ready for this beautiful moment to end. Connor is only slightly less awake than you are.  
He’s mumbling in what sounds like Gaelic, but often switches to Latin, under his breath, it seems like a prayer. You might have thought he was sleep talking if not for the way one of his large hands plays with your pregnant swell. It circles the large mass, touching every since it is able on each trip around, while occasionally stopping to squeeze the flesh and feel just how firm you are.  
The tenderness warms your heart. The attention though causes a bit of a tingle in the folds of skin that guard the entrance to your vagina. The morning is too young for this, but your hormones don’t know this. You’re so scared of ruining the moment, but it’s getting impossible to keep up the façade of sleep.  
That tingling turns into a new spot of warmth in the comfy morning. You bite your lower lip in an attempt to contain yourself. He’s just trying to be sweet and kind and ‘soon-to-be-dad’ly, don’t ruin it by being horny over him rubbing your belly.  
But that hot coal between your legs won’t be abated for long.  
With a long breath, you twist your neck back so you can see Connor’s gorgeous face. Fuck, how did you get lucky enough to bring home a man this drop-dead beautiful while thirty-two weeks pregnant? His eyes aren’t open yet, and those soft lips still move in murmured prayer. He’s got some bedhead, but that’s his own fault for lying down right after a shower.  
You give him a few more minutes of peace while taking in his strong jaw and beautiful cheekbones. You let the soothing low tones of his prayers penetrate your soul, lifting you to paradise. That’s what this moment is, the paradise of heaven come to Earth for one slow and sleepy Saturday morning.  
His face scrunches in surprise when you kiss his nose, but he smiles upon opening his blue eyes to find yours. They twinkle like sapphires, or maybe lapis lazuli in the light of day. Not quite the cobalt they appear to be in the dark evening. That smile melts your heart though. Your fear that the man may not care for you once the whiskey cleared his system vanishes.  
“Good morning Connor.” You whisper.  
“Mornin’ mo grah.” He has the look of a man who, well he looks like he feels how you do, unable to believe, but ecstatic at the fact that you wound up waking in the same bed. “How’s the little one?”  
“Fast asleep.” You’ve never been more at peace, never more comfortable than you are now. “How did you sleep?”  
“Fine, better than fine actually.” Connor kisses your forehead, you shiver in delight. “And you lass?”  
“Didn’t think sleep could be so wonderful. It’s like I was floating on a cloud while my entire body…” You laugh and shake your head. “It was the most wonderful sleep I’ve had since I was a little girl. I almost wanted to never wake.”  
“No more contractions?” He asks seriously, slowly, very slowly, helping you to sit.  
“None.” Perhaps you pretend to have some difficulty with sitting, just so you have an excuse to groan from the effort and he will hold you closer. “Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to wake you with my awful screaming should one come in the night.”  
“Don’t tease me.” Connor chuckles, leaning against the headboard.  
Now that the room is well lit you are offered a chance to really enjoy the man’s physique. While resting on his shoulder your eyes take in all there is to see, and your fingers trace the smooth skin.  
What did you dream about?” You murmur in his ear while drawing your nail along his collarbone.  
“Not sure you really want to know what a drunk man dreams while he sleeps in a pretty girl’s bed.” He laughs, hand holding your belly from beneath. “Especially when she triggers fantasies that are… well, let's not go there, lass.”  
You grin maniacally. “Connor, are you implying…” You’re thumbing one of his nipples now, causing his breathing to pick up the pace. “That I might be leading you astray from the pure and good vanilla sex, towards the kinky dark side?”  
“I never claimed to be a vanilla sweetheart.” Connor shifts, pulling the blanket, so it’s more layered over his lap. “But those dreams were-ah-something I’ve never anticipated.”  
Once you finish tracing the defined muscles of his abdomen, you begin shifting your position, slowly as to not disturb the sleeping baby within. “So long as you don’t go drooling after any pregnant woman walking down the street, I don’t see any problem with you taking an extra attraction to my form.” You lift yourself over Connor’s thigh and settle on top of the blankets between his legs as he spreads them to make room for you. Of course, you are careful to avoid crushing any important bits and are satisfied to feel his morning wood against your lower back when you lean back on him.  
“Wouldn’t even think of it gorgeous.” Connor’s voice seems to be having trouble staying under control. “But those dreams of you all filled up, makes me feel filthy thinking such dirty thoughts about something that is supposed to be pure and beautiful.”  
“Maybe I want you to dream dirty things about my massive…” You make sure both of his strong hands are resting on your “… sexy belly.”  
He groans, pressing his face into your shoulder. “Sure you want to do this mo grah, so early in the morn?”  
Your dominant hand slips into your sweatpants in search of that hot coal of pleasure. “I’m sure Connor, but we have to be slow, are careful. I don’t wanna wake the baby yet.”  
“Mmm, waking him would be awful. I’ll be sure to be delicate with ya.” He resumes his slow, sensual belly rubs from earlier.  
Your fingers press into the folds of your pussy, taking that hot coal and breaking it into a hundred flaming embers of extasy; releasing the liquid arousal that built up inside you, covering your flesh and panties with warm wetness. Increased blood flow to the area has made you more sensitive, so everywhere you touch feels live you’ve been stroking for hours already. The hormones in your body have already turned you into a horny mess, just waiting for Connor to take you.  
“Fuck I wish I had been the one to knock you up,” Connor growls, the pace of rubbing increasing while his cock twitches against your back. “Not that loser with his pathetic seed.”  
“What would have made yours better?” You while pushing two fingers into your warm hole, up to the second knuckles.  
He pushes into either side of your swollen stomach, causing you to groan from the increased pressure. “Twins run in my family, you’d have a pair going in there.” His hips move so there’s friction against the growing erection, trying to wiggle away from the blanket that separates you two. “Couple of big, healthy babies growing inside that womb of yours.”  
Your lower lip is trapped between your teeth while you scissor your fingers and the heat spreads, flames licking all the fibers of your thighs and pelvis. “You mean you want me even bigger than this?”  
“Aye.” His voice is deep while he massages your gravid orb, gently applying pressure but careful not to awaken the little one. “By the time yer ready to pop you’d be twice this big, maybe more.” The heavy breathing on your shoulder says all you need to know about how serious he is.  
“So, you dreamed of me being bigger? Is that right?” Your free hand cups the bulge while the fires of bliss spread and your own heavy breathing causes it to heave from the effort. “Full up of your children? How big did you dream? How massive did I get in your fantasies?” He groans and shakes his head. “Don’t be embarrassed darling, you make me want to be big and full of these little angels. I want to know how bloated and beautiful I got for you.”  
“You couldn’t move,” Connor sighs with pleasure as the blanket finally comes away from his cock and he can rub the now huge thing against your back. “I dreamed I knocked you up so full that you sat on the couch all day because you couldn’t move. From the front, yer belly was twice the width of the rest of ya. You leaned back, groaning, all the time, from their kicking, and were so giant it was past your knees.” The fact that he’s flustered, ashamed, but still aroused, makes you feel powerful. You could actually be the size of a house, and he would still want to fuck your brains out.  
“Connor, that sounds… fuck that sounds amazing,” you whimper in pleasure, like floodgates have been opened pleasure. Your juices flow freely, soaking your panties straight through to your sweatpants. “Help me out of these.” You plead, withdrawing your hand from desire central and tugging on the waistband.  
“I will, in exchange for a taste.” He teases, taking the hand that was previously playing with your core. You happily allow him to bring it to his mouth and slowly lick the juice off each digit while you’re quietly moaning his name. Once he’s finished, he begins to roughly remove your pants, panties in tow.  
“Ah, hey, hey!” You complain, hissing as the fetus inside starts to roll over, stretching and pushing at the walls of your uterus. “Don’t wake the baby, don’t wake the baby!” Your head is tilted back while you groan in discomfort from it pushing into your intestines. Both of you are very still, with one hand each on the orb, waiting to see if the activity stops.  
After a minute your son is still again, save for the occasional dream taps; Connor kisses the side of your neck. “Tat was a close one.“ He resumes the clothing removal with a more gentle touch this time.  
“Mhm…” You hum, closing your eyes and kicking the pants off. “We have to practice Connor, for when waking him means we have a screaming, crying, bawling, sobbing baby on our hands.”  
Connor helps to position the two of you so that you’re resting on his muscular thighs, nearly ready to slide onto his throbbing dick. “It’s not like he’ll be in bed with us while we…”  
“I know,” you grin slyly. “But if we can keep him asleep while he’s inside me, we’ll be damn good at not waking him when he’s out of me.” You feel the tip rubbing against your agonizingly sensitive folds.  
“Let’s make a game of it then.” Connor’s voice is strained from resisting the urge to penetrate you until permission is granted. “Go until he wakes up. If he wakes we lose and have to get up.”  
You purr. “And as long as he sleeps, we’re winning and get to keep fucking.” Your arm goes up, back so it can rest on the back of Connor’s head. “You sure you have the stamina for that cowboy? We could be here all day.”  
“Well, what are you waiting f…” The whole sentence isn’t even out of your mouth before Connor begins to slide into you. He’s wider than you realized, and it stretches your poor pussy just a touch more than you were expecting. A high pitched sound of your mixed pain and pleasure comes from your lips while your head is thrown back all the way into Connor’s shoulder, and you grip his hair tightly. “Holy shit!” Breath, remember to breath. “I…I don’t know if I can…”  
“If you can’t handle me.” Connor moans into your ear. “How do you expect to be able to push that baby out of there?” You whine but complain no further. Extasy is lancing up your spine. Fireworks are going off against your thighs. “That’s it, see it ain’t that hard.” He releases a deep-chested groan once he’s fully inserted. “Fuck, tell me I feel as good as you feel to me.”  
“Connor…” Your eyes are half closed, body in absolute shock at what it has just taken in. “You feel good enough that I’d stay pregnant forever if it meant you fucked me every single day.”  
“Tat’s what I like ta hear.” His voice is so sexy it makes you want to give him your entire soul.  
The two of you remain like this for a few minutes, taking turns moaning in contentment the whole time. His left-hand massages your belly again, and the right goes down to play with your clit. Joy buzzer jolts of pleasure join in the smoldering fire of bliss that controls your crotch right now. As you adjust to his enormity though, the fire cools, you need more.  
“Ah!... aaahh…” Your vocal cords betray your neediness as you start leaning forward, so you’re sliding off to gain friction.  
To which he responds by pulling back, and pushing in again while sighing your name. Like flint against rock it creates a spark. Another when he does so again, and another, and another. Till it’s not flint striking stone, the friction of his cock against your walls is a set of billows stoking the fire. As it builds, it spreads through your body and like a storm those expert fingers on your clit bring bolts of lighting that leave you tingling.  
“Connor…” You groan, dragging out each syllable of his name and you barely have the breath necessary to finish, so it ends on a faint whimper.  
His chin is on your shoulder and his lip to your ear when Connor moans your name it makes your soul vibrate. While he gently moves in and out of you his other hand is still lovingly massaging your swollen stomach. For how gentle, caring, and adoring he is to you and your pregnant swell, you can forget that you met him only last night. For how he treats you, you might be his childhood sweetheart, for whom he loves more than anything in the world. He treats your massively pregnant gut as though the child within is his own creation, and you are an altar for him to worship the miracle of life.  
“I’m… Connor… my god, I’m going to…” That tensing of your core is already upon you. Some combination of the hormones and Connor’s mastery in the art of sex has brought you to the verge of climax far sooner than you are accustomed to. Perhaps it’s the… fucksake whatever it is it feels good.  
“Come for me mo grah.” He nibbles your earlobe. “Bless me with your sweet orgasm.”  
Your eyes shut tight while your entire being clenches around the perfect member within you, forcing its thrusts to halt. “Connor! Connor!! Connor!!!” You cry louder and louder until the most intense wave of pleasure you’ve ever felt crashes through your system. It’s like somebody has cracked open the nozzle on a fire hydrant and bliss is spilling onto the street on a hot summer day.  
Connor’s fingers withdraw from your clit, so he can wrap his arms around and hold you close. His body is tense, but he does not yet come. Instead, as you are coming down from the high, he begins to shift the position the two of you are in.  
When the multi-colored electricity fades from your body, he is lying down, and you are turned around, so you are sitting atop him, looking down and taking in his magnificent body. His torso glistens with sweat, his chest heaves from heavy breathing. The lapis lazuli in his eyes are shining with lust and love.  
“Am I doing a good job?” You murmer, loving the way the morning light bounces of his hair. “I’m a little out of practice.”  
“Mmm,” Connor’s smile is so soft while he takes your belly in both his hands. As the two of you sit now, it rests on his own stomach. “You were perfect, and, the babe is still sleepin’.” You place your own hands near his, only now realizing that, yes, your baby is still calm and asleep. He moves one to put over yours, and you take your other and put it over his. The two of you sit there for a moment while your child sleeps.  
“He’s never been this calm for so long.” You rub your thumb against the taut skin. “I mean I even slept all through last night, that hasn’t happened in over a month.”  
“He’s sensitive to your mood.” Connor grins. “If he’s at peace then it’s because you are too.”  
“I have you to thank for that.” You giggle, shifting your hips to reignite the smoldering embers. His breath hitches as the friction gets him going again, and you smirk. “Did you dream of me like this? On top of you? Letting you admire me from below.”  
He responds with deep-chested groans. “No, but now ‘m thinkin’ bout’ you bein so full up that you crush me.” His cheeks turn red and you see an immediate look of ‘why did I say that?!?’  
You look down at your swollen orb, and begin a slow, rhythmic rise and fall, contemplating your girth each time the bottom touches his stomach again. “Crush you, huh?” You smirk, and he moans your name as the forest fire begins to consume your bodies once again. “You want me so full up of your babies that… oh!... every time I come down on you, ah, you, fuck, struggle to breathe from my giant, ah, massive, ah, gravid, ahhhhh, magnificent belly, weighing down on you?”  
His hips thrust up into you. “Yeah, I do. Want to see you so full of life that I’m an insect in comparison.” You throw your head back to moan as his cock hits your cervix, which causes a pang of pain, but, allows extasy to crawl along the walls of your uterus. “Struggle to breathe because you come all the way out to my chest and… fucks sake, oh, you get so heavy that when you come from that belly full of miracles, shit, gorgeous…” He starts murmuring, cussing in what sounds like Gaelic.  
You can feel it taking over his entire body and already once again you are at the tipping point. Connor moans your name in a primal nature. The sensation of his cock shooting his seed into your needy pussy pushes you right into another orgasm while his name escapes your lips louder than ever. This one is more powerful and elevates your senses to a whole new plane of awareness.  
You can hear a bird chirping near the window, and the rumble of cars starting in the street below; less fortunate hook-ups make their way home. The smell of plum and jasmine body wash that you both bathed with last night is becoming overwhelmed by the musk of sex and sweat. Each twitch of your precious baby boy’s little arms or legs are so defined that you can almost picture his tiny form curled up, sleeping, dreaming.  
Again you must come down from the rush, and as soon as Connor recovers from his, he begins to adjust positions once more. Getting out from under you, leaving you feeling hollow, dripping his juices onto the sheets. He kisses you gently, and you become lost in the taste of him before he breaks away and gets around behind you.  
“Think you can handle bending over for me?” He asks, tracing your belly, which has become slick with sweat from these endeavors.  
“I could, but I don’t know how well I can hold it,” You are still panting while you speak. Slowly, you lower yourself, Connor supporting you on the descent. It’s a strange sensation to have your belly hanging under you, it makes you aware of just how heavy it is as your sides stretch from it pulling down. “Connor, I don’t know if I can…” You whine in discomfort from the sagging bulge.  
Connor’s left-hand goes under you so that he can support the weight, pushing it back upwards, so you don’t feel so much like bungie cord that is straining and about to snap. “Tat better?” You nod but know he can’t hold it up like that the entire time. He knows it too, which is why he grabs your biggest, comfiest pillow, and slides it underneath your stomach. “Try it with this, get comfy, whatever you need.”   
You feel the baby shift inside as you move lower, resting the bulge on the pillow, careful not to put too much weight on it. Connor’s hand still rests on the side, and he lovingly rubs the point where he can feel your son rolling over to adjust to your strange orientation.  
“I’m ready.” You don’t know how this will go over, but so long as your son is not hurt in the process, it will be an interesting experiment.  
“Are ya sure?” Such a concerned father tone of voice makes you tingle.  
“I a-AM!” As soon as reassurance was given, Connor pushes himself into your still ready pussy. You’re somewhat embarrassed bu the loud moan that escapes you.  
This seems to push Connor into an even more intense state of primal need. His thick, throbbing cock thrusts hard, fast, and with an energy that resonates with your soul. New pleasure flows through your body, adrenaline making your heart race. Connor is grunting as he puts all of his might into this intense session of fucking. You rock your hips with his rhythm, closing your eyes and losing yourself in the music.  
“Fuck, Connor this is amazing!” You cry out, wholly overtaken by the bliss. All your muscles quiver and your mind has begun to turn to jelly.  
“Lass, this might be the most amazin’ sight I’ve ever seen.” The man’s voice is deep and rough, his hands run along your back till one finds your hair. He grips you by the roots and pulls your head back. “With yer pretty lips pantin’ back sweatin’, you don’ even know how beautiful your belly looks, comin’ off yer sides. Fuck.” He leans forward, pressing his stomach against your back while intensely rubbing the massive swell of your belly.  
His weight pushes you down, putting pressure on the orb. Which while uncomfortable, somehow pushes you into your next orgasm.  
“Oh. My. Fuck. Connor!!” You scream as the walls of your vagina clench tight around him and brilliant while light fills your vision.  
He hisses your name, body going rigid, before once again his blessed seed erupts from him and fills you.  
As the orgasm shakes you, your entire body spasms. You gasp as a tiny foot stricks your rib, then sigh as a flurry of small kicks takes up a new rhythm within you.  
Connor chuckles, gently rubbing where he can feel the activity. “Looks like we woke him.”  
You are drenched in sweat, and as the last of your orgasm slips away, it takes all your energy with it. “Help me lay down, please?” You’re still panting, Connor’s strong arms help move you. The city is wide awake now, cars honk in the street, feet stamp around upstairs. “Hey… Connor…?  
“Hmm?” The beautiful man lies down in front of you. His features shine with sweat as well, glistening in the morning light.  
The baby rolls over and stretches, causing a visible stretching of your skin, and you giggle. “Thank you for bringing me home last night…”  
“Course lass was the proper thing to do.”  
“And… I love you, even if it’s too soon to say it, I do.”  
“Not too soon at all mo grah.” His eyes have begun to water in joy. “I love you too.”


End file.
